


Never Coming Back

by walkingonthestars



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crying, Dead Emilie Agreste, Faked Suicide, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Character Death, Suicide, There is nothing happy in this, there is only sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkingonthestars/pseuds/walkingonthestars
Summary: Before Emilie fell into her sleep, she wrote a note to Adrien. It was short-- just over half a page long-- and basically detailed that she loved him and was sorry for what happened. She'd told Gabriel to give this note to Adrien the day she fell asleep for good, whenever that day would come.He didn't give Adrien the note. He didn't explain any of it. He told himself every day that he'd succeed this time, that they could stop living in this limbo. But he never succeeded. And then he finally accepted that he never would.The most important thing about Emilie's note was that it was vague. Vague enough that in the right context, it could reasonably be read as a suicide note.Creating the right context was exactly what Gabriel and Nathalie were going to do.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Emilie Agreste, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Nino Lahiffe, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Plagg, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth & Nathalie Sancoeur
Comments: 11
Kudos: 93





	Never Coming Back

**Author's Note:**

> Rewatching Style Queen a while ago, I found myself wondering what Gabriel's plan would be after renouncing his miraculous. Was he going to just leave Emilie's body down in the basement forever? Or would he have tried to stage something to give Adrien and the rest of Paris some closure?
> 
> This is my very angsty take on the latter option.
> 
> (Find me on Tumblr, I'm hamsternamedmarinette)

He was done this time. Completely done. That much was made clear when he powered down the large battery under Emilie's casket. Nathalie had her doubts at first-- he'd renounced his miraculous after Style Queen, after all, but picked it back up again the minute Chloé showed promise as an akumatized miraculous wielder. But there was no question this time. It was over. Their mission was no more. 

Nathalie held Gabriel's left hand in her own as they waited for the body to go cold. His right hand was on Emilie's. Neither of them spoke for what felt like eternity. 

  
  
Before Emilie fell into her sleep, she wrote a note to Adrien. It was short-- just over half a page long-- and basically detailed that she loved him and was sorry for what happened. She'd told Gabriel to give this note to Adrien the day she fell asleep for good, whenever that day would come. She'd told him to explain to Adrien what had caused her affliction, to apologize on her behalf and to give Adrien all the love she couldn't after she was gone. 

He didn't give Adrien the note. He didn't explain any of it. Doing so felt too much like giving up on her. He'd fished out his own miraculous instead, using it as a means to access the two most powerful miraculous in the hopes of reversing this whole ordeal. In the meantime, he let Emilie Agreste become an unsolved disappearance to the rest of Paris. To her son. He told himself every day that he'd succeed this time, that they could stop living in this limbo of Adrien not knowing where his mother is and Gabriel struggling to bring her back. But he never succeeded. And then he finally accepted that he never would. 

The most important thing about Emilie's note was that it was vague. Vague enough that in the right context, it could reasonably be read as a suicide note. 

Creating the right context was exactly what Gabriel and Nathalie were going to do. 

  
  
Nathalie books a room at the Grand Paris Hotel over the phone under the name Adelaide Fremont. That feels like a fake name Emilie would use. She requests that the key be left where she could get it on her own, without the assistance of any hotel staff. It's an unreasonable request, but Nathalie knows that the staff of this hotel is used to humoring wealthy, entitled guests. This should hardly be the most unreasonable thing they've had to do. 

They drive to the hotel at around three o'clock in the morning. Nathalie is behind the wheel with Gabriel next to her in the passenger seat, his knuckles white on the sides of his seat. The ride is silent-- not a word or sound from either of the living passengers, nor a car horn or bicycle bell from the streets around them. There are only a few other cars also on the road at this time of night anyway. The only sound the entire ride is the consistent rumble of the tar below the tires. It's still too much noise for Nathalie. 

There's no valet in front of the hotel at this time, thankfully, so Nathalie pulls into the parking garage underneath and drives around until she finds a spot. When she does, she quietly parks, turns off the car, and sits in silence for a few seconds. 

_ It's not too late to back out. You don't have to go through with this.  _

Nathalie closes her eyes and shuts that voice out.  _ What's done is already done. This is the best course of action to take now.  _

She clears her throat. "I'll send you a text when you can come up." 

Gabriel just nods. 

She waits a few more seconds-- for what, she doesn't know-- then opens the car door to get out. She walks to the back and opens the trunk, where there's a large rolling suitcase. Feelings of panic threaten to hit her but she deflects them before they can, forcing herself to pick up the suitcase as gently as possible--  _ don't think about why it's so heavy--  _ and set it on the ground to roll it. 

The walk to the elevator, the ride up, and the walk to the front desk-- where there is nobody, as per her wishes-- is spent overanalyzing how nonchalantly she's walking and imagining every worst-case scenario she can think of. She's in the middle of a horrible fantasy of someone noticing her suspicious behavior and calling the police when she picks the key--left next to a slip of paper reading  _ For Mlle. Adelaide Fremont, room 719-- _ up from the front counter. She pictures the courtroom of her and Gabriel's trial as she walks to the room. She unlocks the hotel room door and opens it, imagining a prison guard opening a cell. Then she walks inside and closes the door behind her. 

Was she supposed to text Gabriel as soon as she was inside?

She looks down at the suitcase. The only other option is to arrange the scene all by herself, and as much as she wants to save Gabriel from as much heartbreak as she can, she really doesn't want to do this alone. 

She pulls out her phone. 

**Room 719. Text me when you're outside the door, don't knock.**

He doesn't respond, but the phone tells her that he's read the message, and she knows that he's on his way. She sets her phone to vibrate and pulls the suitcase further into the room, by the bed. Then she walks to the window to look outside. 

The city isn't busy at this time of night, but it's still ravishing to look at. Growing up, Nathalie was never one for romance, always scoffing at her fellow girls for being so obsessed with dating and boys and true love. She always recognized the irony of feeling this way while living in what many called the City of Love. There was a phase in her teenage years during which she declared that she hated Paris, that it was overrated, that she'd move far, far away the minute she was old enough. But as she matured, her love for the city grew, and even though she's still not as big of a fan of romance as other women-- or, perhaps, she's not a fan of it in the same way-- she still appreciates the general romantic air of the city she'd grown up in. 

Of course, in recent times, Paris has become less associated with romance and more associated with heroes and villains, with magic both dark and light. But perhaps if people knew why that magic was brought to the city in the first place, they'd start seeing it romantically again. 

A flash of movement near one of the taller buildings in the view catches her eye. Her eyebrows raise. Running and vaulting across the rooftops is none other than Cat Noir. At this point, her instinctual reaction upon seeing either of the heroes is disdain, but she shakes that feeling out of her head. They're just children, doing the jobs they've been chosen to do. They don't know what they've been fighting against. What they've been preventing. Besides, after tonight, she won't have to think about them anymore. 

As she watches the teen hero, she finds herself wondering what he's doing out at this time. There's no akuma, obviously-- there hasn't been one for the past few days, and there will never be one again-- so she can only assume he's out for his own enjoyment. Then she finds herself thinking about what might happen to him and Ladybug after it becomes clear to the city that Hawk Moth is gone. Will they continue to act as heroes, helping to stop non-magical crime, or will they retire their miraculouses like Hawk Moth and Mayura and start leading normal lives again? 

Cat Noir does some complicated gymnastics trick between two buildings, and even though Nathalie is too far away to see his face, she can picture his trademark cocky grin. 

_ He won't have to worry about any more superhero responsibilities after tomorrow,  _ she tells herself.  _ His life will be easier. Better. You're doing a good thing for the both of them.  _

Her phone buzzes in her hand. She looks out the window for a few more seconds, then tears her eyes away from the young hero and turns around to open the door. 

  
  


Five minutes later, Emilie Agreste is lying serenely on the bed, over the covers, her hands folded over her midsection like they were for so long in Gabriel's butterfly garden. On the night table next to her is the note she wrote for Adrien, an empty glass of water, and two empty bottles of Tylenol. 

Nathalie quietly asks if Gabriel wants to say anything. A few seconds pass before he almost inaudibly mumbles that he doesn't. 

They leave the hotel room without a sound. They drive back to the mansion in the same manner. They go into their respective bedrooms and close their respective doors. 

As soon as her door clicks closed, Nathalie finally lets the tears that have been building in her eyes fall. 

  
  


oOo 

  
  


Adrien gets to school at 7:45 the next morning but is pulled out at only 9:03. 

It's not atypical for him to be pulled out of class-- he has lots of photoshoots that need to be done at specific times of the day to turn out the way the photographer envisions. But he's usually notified of photoshoots that take place during school hours. They're normally outlined in the schedule Nathalie gives him every morning, giving him the time to prepare for them throughout the day-- eat something so he doesn't get too hungry and have to take a snack break during a shoot, get the day's lesson from the teachers of the classes he's going to miss, the works. And he's rarely ever pulled out of school before lunch; if he needed to do a shoot that early, they wouldn't bother bringing him to school on time in the first place-- they'd simply bring him to school whenever the shoot is done, whatever time that may be. 

Still, he doesn't question it too much when Mr. Damocles knocks on Ms. Bustier's door and interrupts her lecture on Henri Bergson, asking that Adrien leave the classroom and bring his things. He doesn't think too hard about how somber the principal sounds, a stark contrast from his usual showy, faux-comic-book-hero tone. Adrien just puts his books back in his bag unceremoniously, giving a fist bump to Nino and a casual wave goodbye to the rest of his classmates as he slings his bag over his shoulder and walks out the door. 

As fun as it was, he's beginning to regret his late night/early morning run around the city as Cat Noir last night. He doesn't know  _ why  _ he's being pulled out of class right now, but it has to be for something important, right? If it's something important, then it means he might have to interact with his father. And he really doesn't want to face the inevitable questions and comments about how tired he looks. 

When he turns the corner and walks further down the hall, Principal Damocles still walking silently beside him, he sees Nathalie down in the courtyard. She's standing still and straight as usual, hands behind her back, posture perfect. He notes that she doesn't have her tablet-- at least he won't have to endure his father's criticisms for now-- but otherwise thinks nothing of it even as he swears he hears Mr. Damocles sniffle as they walk down the stairs. 

They reach the bottom of the steps and are a few feet from Nathalie when Mr. Damocles murmurs to Adrien "I'll let you talk with her," and gestures for Adrien to go speak to Nathalie alone. Adrien eyes the principal in confusion but does what he's told. 

He walks up to Nathalie, and now that he's standing closer to her, he can see that while her body language is perfectly poised, her face is barely holding it together. There are light smudges of mascara under her eyes where it looks like she may have been rubbing them. Her jaw is clenched so hard Adrien wonders if it hurts. 

"Is everything alright, Nathalie?" Adrien asks, because he's never seen her like this before and doesn't really know what to say. 

It must have been the wrong thing to say, he thinks, because Nathalie takes a small yet very sharp inhale and closes her eyes for a second before she speaks. "Adrien, they…" she starts, her voice low. She clears her throat and starts again. "They found your mother." 

His world freezes. 

For a split second, Adrien forgets his current surroundings-- Nathalie's desolate face and shaky voice, Mr. Damocles' uncharacteristically solemn stance a few meters away-- and thinks he's about to hear the best news of his life; that his mother was found safe and alive, that she's at his house, or maybe in a police station, waiting anxiously for him to leave school and come to her so she can see him and hug him and tell him how big he's gotten in the time she's been gone. He won't even ask her where she's been, or why she left in the first place-- he just wants to see her and revel in her presence, her embrace. 

But that thought, consuming as it is, lasts only a second before he takes in the situation again and feels his heart begin to crack. 

"Is… is she okay?" he asks, his voice small because he can already guess what she's going to say. 

The way her bottom lip trembles confirms his worst fears. "No, Adrien," Nathalie whispers, shaking her head and letting a tear fall down her face. 

Adrien barely feels himself being pulled into her arms before the world goes black. 

  
  


oOo

  
  


_**Emilie Agreste found dead by suicide after over a year missing** _

_ Emilie Agreste, former film actress and wife of famed fashion designer Gabriel Agreste, was found dead this morning in a room at the Grand Paris Hotel, where, according to hotel records, she'd checked in under a fake name the night before.  _

_ Agreste was reported missing May of last year after disappearing from her home, having last been seen by her husband and son. No evidence was found to indicate that she had been taken against her will, leading investigators to believe she had left on her own accord.  _

_ A maid at the hotel made the grisly discovery at around 8:15 this morning while making her morning housekeeping round.  _

_ "I knocked and no one answered, and went in because there was no  do not disturb sign, but I saw that she was on the bed so I was about to just leave," states the maid, who wished to remain anonymous. "But somehow I just sensed that this wasn't right, so I went in and I looked a little closer. Then I realized she wasn't breathing, and there was an empty thing of pills on the table next to her. So I called up my boss and she told me to call 112." _

_ The maid says she didn’t recognize Agreste at first, only realizing who she was when she took note of a nearby Gabriel Fashion advertisement featuring Emilie’s son, Adrien.  _

_ “At first I was like, ‘she kind of looks like the kid on this magazine.’ And then it hit me-- I remembered who that kid was and who his mother was. I remembered all those headlines last year when she went missing, and I was like, ‘oh my gosh, it’s her.’” _

_ Police arrived at the scene minutes later to remove the body and tape off the area. They notified Gabriel Agreste of the find and asked him to formally identify the body, which he did. He declined to comment on the situation, but his assistant Nathalie Sancoeur gave the following statement:  _

_ “This is a tragic end to a mystery that has plagued my employer and his son for over a year. I ask that the press and the public give the Agrestes the privacy and respect they need during this trying time.”  _

_ Anybody enduring suicidal thoughts or tendencies is urged to call France's primary 24-hour suicide helpline at 01 45 39 40 00.  _

oOo

  
  


The news makes it around Paris quickly, and by lunchtime, everyone in François Dupont is silent and solemn. The cafeteria, normally filled with animated teenage conversations and antics, is stiff as the kids of Ms. Bustier's class file. They pretend not to notice all the other kids stealing glances at them, trying to get a look at Adrien's classmates-- his friends, the kids who know him better than they do. They pick up their trays with their heads hanging low, sitting at their tables without any words. 

Marinette can't tune out Chloé's incessant sniffling. The blonde quietly excuses herself to the bathroom before lunch with the excuse that she needs to touch up her makeup. Sabrina goes to follow her, but Chloé snaps at her that she needs to touch up her makeup  _ alone. _

There's an empty seat in front of Marinette and next to Nino. Marinette keeps her eyes trained down on her food. She tries not to notice the lack of Adrien from her peripheral, tries not to think about what he might be doing right now, what he's probably feeling. She never knew Adrien's mother, nor did she know much about her, but somehow hearing the news felt like a punch in the gut, if not just because it meant Adrien was likely in indescribable pain. 

She briefly considers picking up her fork and at least  _ trying _ to eat something, but the more she looks at her food, the sicker she feels. 

Nino brings her out of her pained mess of a mind. "We should be with him right now," he says, his voice almost unrecognizable without its usual carefree lilt. 

Marinette looks up at him. Next to her, Alya does the same, her eyebrows raised the tiniest bit in surprise. "Right now?" the bespectacled girl asks. 

"Right now." 

Marinette watches as Nino aggressively pushes around the food on his plate with his fork. His head is hung low, the brim of his cap obscuring the upper half of his face. As such, Marinette can't really see his eyes, but the sound of his voice tells her they're somewhere between despondent and enraged. 

Alya bites her lip. "I don't know," she murmurs. "As much as I want to… is it too soon? He probably needs time by himself to process it." 

_ "Time by himself," _ Nino repeats with a humorless laugh. He stabs at a piece of chicken on his plate with his fork. "Every moment in that dumb prison house of his has been time by himself for the past year and a half. He hates it." 

Alya averts her eyes. Like Marinette-- and unlike Nino, who seems to be taking out all his emotions on his food-- she hasn't touched her lunch at all. "Circumstances are a little different now," she says quietly. "He may not want company." 

Nino stabs a piece of broccoli now, but unlike the chicken, it crumbles at the fork’s touch and falls apart on his plate. Nino stares at it for a second. Then his face crumbles too, and where there just was anger, there’s now only despair. His voice breaks as he speaks again. "I just wanna be there for him, you know?" 

A few seconds pass where Alya continues staring down at her lunch tray, chewing the inside of her cheek. Then she closes her eyes and nods. “You’re right,” she sighs. “He needs to know we’re there for him.” She pushes her plate away from her. “I’m not hungry anyway.” 

“Me neither,” Marinette says, her eyes still trained on her food in distaste. 

“So we’re going?” Nino says, looking at his girlfriend hopefully. 

Alya looks between him and Marinette, who can't see her own eyes but can tell they're conveying the same amount of anticipation as Nino’s, and nods. “Let’s go,” she decides. 

The three stand up, and Marinette tries not to shake too hard as she gathers her things. This is far from the first time she's ever shaken incessantly at the knowledge that she's about to see Adrien, but where her nerves usually stem from a place of infatuation, they're now rooted in secondhand grief, and-- if she's being honest--  _ fear.  _ Fear of what, though, she doesn't really know. 

They're halfway to the door when Rose’s voice interrupts them. “Are you guys going to see Adrien?” 

Marinette looks behind her to see the rest of their classmates looking at them. Some have tears sitting in their eyes, some have tears that have already fallen down their faces. All of them are silent. 

"If they even let us in,” Nino says with the smallest shrug. 

“But we’ll  _ make _ them let us in,” Marinette adds, and some of her classmates smile. 

“Well, when you see him,” Rose says, looking around at her seatmates before looking back up at the trio, “can you tell him we’re sorry, and that we’re all here for him too?” 

Marinette takes in all their faces. They all look exactly how she feels. For some reason, part of her is surprised. She shouldn't be-- she grew up with most of these kids, so she knows how kind they all are. But somehow she never considered that Adrien meant enough to the rest of them that they'd respond to his loss so intensely.

“We will,” Marinette declares, and her classmates all give her varying degrees of small smiles.

Before they start the walk to Adrien's house, Nino gets the idea to stop at Marinette's first to get some pastries for Adrien. The bakery is only two blocks from the school, and they have a whole two hours for their lunch break, but they still try to be as quick as possible. Luckily, it isn't very crowded when they get there. Upon seeing them, Marinette's mother can seem to immediately tell why they're there, and quickly begins filling a box with what she knows to be all of Adrien's favorites. When Nino begins to take out his wallet, Sabine gently chides him, telling him it's on the house. That it's the very least she and Tom can do to make things better. 

Before the three leave, Sabine pulls Marinette into a hug and presses a kiss against her head. 

_ "Wǒ ài nǐ," _ she whispers into Marinette's hair.  _ I love you.  _ It's one of the few things Marinette can understand in Mandarin without having to take the time to mentally translate. Marinette whispers it back to her mother, and the two stand in their hug for a few more seconds before Marinette lets go to rejoin Alya and Nino. They walk out of the bakery and to their destination. 

Soon enough, they're across the street from the Agreste mansion, and they all three bristle at the sight of a swarm of reporters crowding the front gates, pointing cameras at the windows and shouting at whoever was inside. 

"Didn't they ask for some goddamn respect?" Nino mutters through a clenched jaw, and Marinette huffs in agreement. She's not in the mood to deal with all these reporters. To even think about them. In the back of her mind, there's a vague wish that Alya and Nino knew she was Ladybug so she could transform on the other side of the mansion and they could just enter Adrien's room through his window. But now is definitely not the right time to tell them about her double life, so she takes a deep breath to prepare herself as they cross the street and make their way to the entrance. 

Pushing her way through the crowd is difficult, but it helps that Marinette is angry at the reporters and doesn't particularly care if she's a little rough with them. Some of them shoot her dirty looks as she pushes them and knocks their cameras slightly off balance. She can't see Alya and Nino, who are trailing behind her, but the indignant "hey!"s and other shouts from reporters she's already passed tell her that her friends are being even rougher with them than she was. 

They eventually make it to the front, and Marinette wraps her fingers around the decorative bars of the gate as she cranes her neck to see if there's anyone who can let them in. There's no one there, which should be unsurprising-- when have the occupants of the Agreste mansion, aside from Adrien, been anything other than aloof?-- but Marinette still finds herself disappointed. Until, that is, a hulking silhouette passes by one of the front windows. 

"Gorilla!" Alya shouts, having noticed the same thing, and some of the reporters around them raise an eyebrow at this seemingly nonsensical outburst. The teens ignore them, instead frantically waving their arms through the holes of the gates in an attempt to catch the bodyguard's attention. 

"Gorilla! Bodyguard! Adrien's bodyguard! Hey!" they shout. 

_ This would be much better if we actually knew his name,  _ Marinette thinks, cringing at the use of the animal nickname Adrien sometimes uses for him. She doesn't know if it's a nickname his bodyguard actually goes by or if it's something Adrien calls him behind his back, perhaps because the blond boy didn't know his name either. Regardless, she feels a little guilty at having never learned the man's name. 

Somehow, they make enough of a racket over the other shouts from the reporters that the Gorilla turns back and looks through the window. The mansion's windows are tinted, so Marinette can't discern his expression, but she can see enough to tell that he's turning around to walk closer to the front door. Her heart catches.  _ He's going to let us in.  _

Sure enough, the doors open, and the large man briskly steps out. The reporters clamor at this sight. They immediately begin shouting questions and taking pictures as the Gorilla walks closer. When he gets to the gate and begins entering the code to unlock it, one man sticks his hand through a space in the gate and practically shoves a microphone in the Gorilla's face. 

"How are the Agrestes coping with their loss?" he shouts. 

The Gorilla pauses his button-pushing to glare at the reporter with deadly intensity, and the reporter's eyes widen as he retracts his hand and shrinks back. 

_ Good,  _ Marinette thinks as the surrounding reporters take note of this interaction and back off. With a low growl and another sweeping glare at the reporters that dares them to even try to get inside, the Gorilla opens the gate just wide enough to let in one person at a time. Alya, Nino, and Marinette file through one by one. Satisfied that nobody else attempted to get through, the Gorilla closes the gate, giving one last glare to the crowd before he escorts the three teens into the mansion. 

"Thanks, dude," Nino says as they take the steps up to the front door. The Gorilla just grunts in response. 

They enter the foyer just as Nathalie walks out of Mr. Agreste's office. She does a double take when she sees them. 

"Excuse me," she says, her high heels clicking on the marble floor as she walks over to them. She raises a questioning eyebrow at Adrien's bodyguard, probably silently asking him why he let them in. His face remains completely neutral, so Nathalie redirects her sharp gaze to the three teens. "What are you doing here?" 

"We're here to see Adrien," Nino says, his posture firm. 

Nathalie narrows her eyes at him. "Now is not exactly the best time." 

"We think it's the perfect time, actually," Alya says, crossing her arms as if to challenge Nathalie's strict demeanor. 

There's a brief silence as Nathalie scrutinizes the kids, looking them up and down. The slightest hint of uncertainty crosses her face. "I don't think Mr. Agreste would be happy with me inviting people in…" 

Marinette prepares herself to respond with some indignant remark, but her thoughts are interrupted by a sigh from Nathalie. 

"...But he isn't here at the moment, and I'm sure Adrien could use his friends right now." Her gaze softens, and she turns around to walk toward the stairs, stopping after a couple of steps to look back at the three teens and beckon them to follow. "He's in his room. He might be sleeping, though." 

The three glance at each other, mentally preparing themselves and each other for whatever interaction they'll have with their friend at the top of this staircase. Then they walk. Nobody speaks as they go up the steps. 

When they reach Adrien's bedroom door, Nathalie knocks on it lightly. "Adrien, your friends are here," she says, and Marinette almost gets whiplash from how soft Nathalie's voice sounds. She's never interacted with Nathalie much, but when she has, the older woman was never anything less than unyielding. 

It's very quiet, but Marinette swears she can hear Adrien's muffled voice behind the door say something quick and low. She reasons, though, that it might not be Adrien's voice-- it could just be the TV, or a video on his phone. Or maybe Adrien's talking to himself, something Marinette often does in times of stress. Well, these days, she mainly talks to Tikki. But there's no kwami in there right now for Adrien to talk to. 

The door opens, revealing their friend, who, with red, tired eyes and messed up hair, looks dramatically different from his usual perfectly put-together model self. Marinette takes in his appearance and can't help but think that he looks a little like Cat Noir with his hair like that. If Cat Noir was broken and despairing instead of jovial and cocky, that is. She vaguely wonders what her partner is doing right now. Has he heard the news? Is he acquainted enough with the film or fashion world to even know who Emilie Agreste is? 

She pushes these thoughts aside, though, and puts her focus on the blond boy in front of her. The one who looks like he's spent the past two hours in hell. 

"Hey, guys," Adrien says with the smallest note of surprise, and Nathalie nods. 

"I'll be downstairs if you need me," she says to Adrien, and she turns and walks away. Adrien opens the door a little wider to let his friends in. They shuffle inside a little awkwardly, and he closes the door behind them. 

"So, uh…" Adrien looks at the floor once the door is closed. "I guess you heard?" 

Hearing his voice, tainted with grief and so different from its usual summery chime, is too much, and Marinette feels her heart crack. "We did," she says softly, and before she can register what she's doing, she pulls him into a hug. "We're so sorry, Adrien," she mumbles into his shoulder. "You don't deserve this." 

Adrien squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his arms around her, his grip strong but his body shaking. When he lets go he goes to Alya and hugs her too, then Nino, who Marinette can tell is refraining from squeezing his friend _too_ tight. 

When Adrien pulls away, there are fresh tears in his eyes threatening to fall. He wipes them away and sniffs. "I really appreciate you guys coming here." 

"We're always here for you, dude," Nino says, and if there's anyone who can make the word "dude" sound loving and meaningful, it's him. 

Adrien nods and looks above his friends' heads, pointedly avoiding eye contact with any of them. "I thought I was prepared for the possibility that… that she may not come back…" He trails off, running a shaking hand through his hair and leaving it sticking up in some odd places. "But this is a lot harder than I imagined." 

"You can cry if you need to," Alya says, reaching out to take his hand, because like Marinette, she's looking at the tears in his eyes that are begging to spill. Marinette and Nino nod, but Adrien just gives a sad laugh. 

"No, I-I think I've already done enough crying for today," he says, but there's a tear that falls down his cheek the moment he says it, as if to mock him. When he leans his head down again to brush it away, he catches sight of the box Marinette holds in her hands. "Are those pastries?" 

"Mind's constantly on food, huh?" Nino teases, though his voice is still soft. He takes the box from Marinette and gives it to Adrien. "Yeah. Marinette's parents send their condolences." 

"The rest of the class, too," adds Alya. Marinette and Nino nod. 

Adrien opens the box and widens his eyes at the vast assortment of treats inside. "Tell them all I said thanks," he mumbles. 

There's a brief silence as the four of them stand there, none of them knowing quite what to do. 

"You guys don't have to stay here," Adrien says after a while. "I can't imagine I'm very good company right now." 

"Bro, we don't care about good company," Nino says. "We just want to be here for you." He goes to put a hand on Adrien's shoulder. Then he retracts it a little, an unsure expression crossing his face, and says, "uh, unless you want to be alone, which we'd understand." 

Adrien winces as if the word  _ alone _ stings him. "That's kind of the last thing I want, to be honest," he admits. 

"Then we'll stay," Marinette declares. Adrien gives her a small, fond smile, and despite the situation, she can feel herself blush. She clears her throat. "Wh-what have you been doing?" 

"Um…" Adrien takes a shuddering breath as he gestures at the room around him. "I tried taking a nap, but I couldn't really get to sleep…" He rubs the back of his neck. "Then I was playing piano a little, but… I don't know." He sits on his bed with a slouch. "I don't really know  _ what _ to do." 

"And that's fine," Alya assures him, sitting down next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Marinette goes to sit on Adrien's other side, taking his hand in hers without the usual butterflies in her stomach. Next to Alya, Nino sits down and reaches over to grab Adrien's other hand. 

"Is there anything you'd like us to do for you?" Marinette asks. 

Adrien shakes his head. "I don't know. You guys just being here is enough, to be honest. God knows I needed some human contact." 

Even though he's sitting on the opposite side from her, Marinette can feel Nino bristle at these words. "Hold up," he says, positioning himself to look at Adrien better. "You're saying you've just been in here alone this whole time?"

"Nino," Alya warns, but her face is reflecting the same anger as her boyfriend's. 

"What about your old man? Where is he?" Nino's face reddens. "And Nathalie? Why isn't she in here with you?" 

_ "Nino,"  _ Alya says again, but Adrien raises his hand slightly to stop her. 

"I think Nathalie's making funeral arrangements," he says, and there's a pause as the weight of these words sink in. "And my dad… I don't know. He might be in his office. Or his room. I haven't seen him." Marinette sees his bottom lip wobble ever so slightly, but he takes a breath and continues taking. "If he needs to be alone right now, I have to respect that. This is hard on him too." 

There's a brief silence, and Marinette finds herself rubbing circles on Adrien's hand with her thumb in an attempt to bring him any form of comfort. 

After a few seconds, though, Nino speaks again. "Still, though," he says, his voice gravelly. "You shouldn't just be left alone." 

Alya briefly moves her hand from Adrien's arm to Nino's knee. "Easy there, Bubbler," she says. "We don't need you getting mad at any adults today." 

Adrien lets out the smallest chuckle. Just as soon, though, Marinette feels him tense. "Oh…" He furrows his brow. "The possibility of getting akumatized didn't even occur to me." 

"I don't think anyone would blame you for getting akumatized, my dude," Nino says, but Adrien shakes his head. 

"It's not that, it's…" He lets the sentence go trail off, an unsure expression crossing his face like he's debating whether to even say what was on his mind. Marinette finds herself curious about whatever it was he was going to say, but she doesn't ask. 

After a few seconds, he sighs. "It's nothing," he finishes quietly. 

Marinette's fingers grip his hand tighter. "You won't get akumatized," she assures him. "I'll make sure of it." 

He has no way of knowing, of course, that she's actually fully capable of making sure that any dark butterflies that dare make their way into this room are immediately purified, but he seems to accept her assurance anyway, giving another small smile and squeezing her hand. 

As a few more seconds pass, though, his face morphs back into a thoughtful expression. A troubled one. 

"I wonder why…" He clears his throat. "I wonder why my mom was never akumatized." 

Adrien is looking down, so he can't see his friends look up at each other in uncertainty of where this is going. He just continues, his voice slowly changing from its relatively collected state to more of a ramble. "I mean, clearly she was-- she was going through some emotional pain." He lets go of Marinette's hand for a second to run it through his hair. When he grabs her hand again, it's shaking harder. "And I know Hawk Moth usually sticks to stuff like teenagers with crushes and bad grades and stuff like that, but… is it bad that I wish she'd gotten akumatized? Because then we would've-- I mean, Ladybug and Cat Noir, they would've found her, and th-they could've brought her back to me and my dad, and-- and we could've gotten her the help she needed." 

There's silence for a little as Adrien keeps his gaze downwards, his leg beginning to bounce in time to anxious thoughts that Marinette can't even begin to comprehend. His friends glance at each other again, trying to think of how to respond. 

Eventually Alya does. "I don't think it's bad to wish that," she says softly. 

Marinette and Nino nod, not that Adrien can see them with his head hung low the way it is. The only sounds for the next few seconds are a few sniffles between the four of them until Adrien speaks again, his voice watery and a little higher pitched now. 

"Sh-she left a note," he says, letting go of Nino's hand this time to point to his desk. Marinette's eyes follow his finger and land on a piece of paper adorned with elegant cursive. Adrien continues. "To me. Basically saying that she's p-proud of me, and who I'll grow into, and that she's sorry that things couldn't be different. But... she didn't say  _ why. _ Why they couldn't." He wipes his eyes in a swift, restless motion. "She was-- I mean, I  _ thought  _ she was-- she seemed happy when she was here," he says, his voice wobbling. Marinette can't see his face, but she sees a tear fall from his chin onto his jeans, and she feels her own eyes begin to moisten. "Before she left. Like, I know a lot of people were wondering when she d-disappeared, 'did she leave because she was unhappy? With her life?' And when I heard that, I'd always--" he takes a shaking breath and lets out a choked cry on his exhale-- "I'd always think, 'no, sh-she wouldn't do that, she was  _ happy!'"  _

He breaks down at the last word, letting out a sob and letting go of Marinette's hand to cover his face. Marinette feels a dam in her heart break and she rushes to reposition herself to hug him tighter, Alya and Nino quickly following suit. They all wrap their arms around him as wide and as hard as they can, and Marinette can feel herself shaking, but can't tell whether it's from her own emotions or from being practically on top of Adrien, whose body is heaving with every sharp breath. 

_ "Please," _ Adrien sobs. "Please, Mom,  _ please _ come back. Please come back,  _ God _ , Maman,  _ please!" _

Adrien's gasps and cries are muffled underneath the hug, but each sound he makes cuts through Marinette's soul like a knife. The four of them sit there on Adrien's bed in one shaking mass for what feels like hours. Eventually, Adrien's wracking sobs calm down into much softer cries, then quiet whimpers, then just sniffles and shaking exhales to match the more subdued crying of the other three. Marinette doesn't let go or open her eyes the entire time. 

The thought of any outside interference doesn't occur to her until she hears a soft knock on the door. She feels Adrien stiffen under the group hug. He sniffs and positions himself to get up, but Nino puts a hand on his shoulder, silently telling him to stay seated. Nino stands up and walks to the door to open it. 

Nathalie is standing there, tablet in hand like Marinette imagines Adrien always sees her. She peers into the room, at Adrien sandwiched between his two female friends, his head still in his hands.

"I thought I should inform you three that your lunch break is almost over," she says. Her voice is as monotone as ever, but there's still an underlying sorrow to it. 

Adrien lifts his head to look at her, then pulls his phone from his back pocket to check the time. 

"You're right," he mutters, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to keep you here." 

"Don't you dare apologize, Adrien," Alya says, gripping his shoulder. 

"We don't have to go," Nino says, ignoring a disapproving glance from Nathalie. "I don't mind skipping a few classes to stay here with you, dude." 

Marinette is ready to agree, ignoring the rational voice in her head telling her that she's already missed too many classes because of her superhero escapades, but Adrien shakes his head vehemently. 

"I don't want you guys to miss any school on my account," he says. "Go back. For me. Seriously." 

Nino glances between him and Nathalie. "Are you sure?" 

Adrien nods, sniffing again. "I'm sure. I think I can probably get some sleep now, anyway." 

Marinette rests a hand on his arm. "That's good to hear," she says softly. 

She decides not to get up until Adrien does, which he does after another second or two, wiping his eyes. Marinette and Alya stand up as well, and the three of them walk to the door, where Nino and Nathalie are already standing. 

It's crowded in the little hallway with the five of them clustered together, but Adrien doesn't seem to care, and he pulls his friends into another group hug. 

"Thank you guys for coming," he mumbles almost inaudibly. 

Marinette closes her eyes again to prevent another stream of tears from falling. From somewhere in the hug, Nino's voice says "always, dude." 

They let go. Adrien gives a small wave goodbye as Nathalie escorts them out. The door clicks shut behind them, and Marinette shivers as she and her friends walk back down the stairs. 

  
  
  


The door closes, his friends disappearing on the other side, and Adrien suddenly feels cold again. 

He stands in front of the door for a moment. Then he turns around and robotically walks back to his bed. He just stands at first, facing his bed. Then he sits, and then he lies down on his stomach. 

He feels something small and light land gently on his upper back. Plagg stayed up by the shelves on the second story the entire time Adrien's friends were here, but Adrien knows he was probably listening to everything they were saying. Having to stay up there while Adrien had a breakdown was probably killing the tiny cat. The past few hours had proved that Plagg was actually very understanding-- and  _ quiet, _ much more to Adrien's surprise-- during times of grief. Between hearing the news and his friends coming over, Adrien had stayed in his room, repeatedly alternating between quietly crying and just sitting numbly, staring into space. In turn, Plagg alternated between lying in Adrien's hands, on his chest, in his hair, or anywhere else he could reasonably offer the boy some comfort. Adrien isn't sure he's heard Plagg stop purring the entire time. 

He's purring again right now, curled up on Adrien's shoulder blade. The sound of his purr has always been soothing to Adrien, but right now it's especially so. Somewhere in the jumbled mess that is his brain at the moment, he wonders how he'd be doing if he didn't have Plagg. At this point, he can barely even remember a time when he didn't have Plagg. How on earth had he handled homeschooling back then? How had he handled the isolation? 

_ I had Mom,  _ he responds to himself, and he responds to  _ that _ with a sob that makes Plagg start purring even louder. 

  
  


oOo

  
  


Adrien doesn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he wakes up, hours later. He catches a glimpse of Plagg, who's sleeping on the pillow next to him. The room is dark now. The only light is a subdued orange glow from the streetlights outside. He pushes himself up with one hand and rubs his eyes with the other. For a second, he wonders why his eyes feel so puffy. Then he remembers that he'd been crying. 

Then he remembers  _ why  _ he'd been crying, and it feels like a punch in the gut. 

The memory of hearing the news-- of trying to process it, of spending two hours in his room almost completely alone, of sobbing in his friends' arms-- clouds his vision with pins and needles for a few seconds, but then his sight goes back to normal and he's left staring down at his bedspread. He spots his phone, which was lying next to him on his bed, and unlocks it, squinting his eyes against the unexpectedly bright light. From the corner of his eye, he can see Plagg stir from the sudden light. After Adrien rushes to turn down the brightness, he checks the time. 8:13 pm. Had he really slept for that long? 

He taps the text message icon and sees that there are dozens of messages. Scrolling through the feed shows him that there are only one or two messages from each person who texted him, and everyone's message is along the lines of  _ "I just heard the news, I'm so sorry for your loss."  _ Some are from his classmates, some from his fencing teammates, some from fellow models he's worked with in the past. His heart swells at them all, even with the giant gaping hole inside it. He can't bring himself to respond to them all right now, though. He makes a mental note to do so sometime later. 

He puts his phone down and looks at the room around him. It's big. Too big. He remembers a time when he confessed to Nino that he sometimes feels suffocated in his room, and the DJ responded with something like "how can you feel suffocated in a room that big?" An unintentionally insecure look from Adrien made Nino backtrack on his comment and apologize, and Adrien accepted the apology without too much of a thought, but he sometimes still thinks about the question. Why  _ does  _ he feel claustrophobic in a room four times as big as the admittedly few other bedrooms he's seen? 

Right now he feels too suffocated to stay here and think about it. 

"Plagg," Adrien says, and the kwami floats up from his pillow with a wary expression.

"Are you sure?" Plagg says, apparently able to decipher Adrien's intentions via just his tone of voice. 

Adrien clenches his jaw. "I'm sure," he decides, his fingers tapping and his leg bouncing. "I need to  _ do _ something. I need to  _ move,  _ I can't take this stupid house anymore." He presses his hands to his forehead. "God, I just need some  _ air."  _

Plagg nods in understanding. "Just say the word," he says. 

Adrien closes his eyes. "Claws out," he says, and the familiar magic spreads out from his ring and envelops him. There's no hesitation before he runs and leaps out his window and lands hard on his feet on the next rooftop. 

Normally Cat Noir did his best to land as lightly as possible-- to not disturb those living below, and because being light on his feet made him feel cooler and more catlike-- but right now he wants to land as hard as he can. There's something about being Cat Noir, he finds, that amplifies all the feelings Adrien keeps deep down. Normally this means that polite, soft-spoken Adrien becomes flashy and outgoing. Right now, though, it means that all of Adrien's grief and sadness morphs into something much more intense. 

He wants to kick a hole into someone's roof. He wants to break his ankle, or his arm, or his skull from vaulting too carelessly through the city. The wind stings his face, and he wants it to sting  _ more-- _ a wish that's soon granted when more tears begin to stream down his cheeks. 

He thinks of his run around the rooftops last night, during which he flipped and turned and jumped around because it was fun, and he wants that young, dumb, carefree superhero from last night to feel all the pain he's feeling right now. 

Before he knows it, he's far away, all the way at the top of the Montparnasse Tower. For a second he just stands at the edge, looking down at the rest of the city, at the streetlights and the car headlights and all the other lights from windows and storefronts. Suddenly, he feels the angry energy drain out of him, leaving only melancholy. Then he sits down. 

_ "I can see our house from here!" nine-year-old Adrien shouts excitedly, waving in the direction of the mansion as if there was someone there who could see him.  _

_ "Adrien, don't go so close to the edge," Emilie's worried voice calls.  _

_ "Chloé's house too!" Adrien yells, and he waves his arms high over his head towards the Grand Paris Hotel.  _

"Adrien," _ his mother calls again, and there's enough warning in her voice now to get Adrien to listen. He turns around and runs to her side.  _

_ On the roof at the moment are the mother and son and a few bodyguards, some of whom came with the Agrestes and some of whom were appointed by whoever his dad was meeting with rush. Adrien thinks about how he wasn't really that close to the edge at all-- if he were, one of the bodyguards would stop him themselves, right?-- but he doesn't say anything to his mother. She's always been a little overprotective.  _

_ "Our houses are really big compared to everyone else's," Adrien tells Emilie matter-of-factly once he's next to her. "You ever notice that?" _

_ Emilie laughs. "Believe me, I've noticed. When we had the house built, your father specifically requested that it be, how shall I say it,  _ utterly enormous." 

_ Adrien smiles at the mental image of his parents watching the mansion get built back before he was born. Then his smile disappears and makes way for a questioning glance up at his mother. "Speaking of father, how much longer is he going to take in there?"  _

_ "Probably not much longer," Emilie says, running her fingers through her son's hair. "He just needed to meet with some network executives to discuss advertising of his line."  _

_ Adrien ignores the words he doesn't understand and smiles. "Can we go get gelato when he's done?" _

_ "I doubt he'll want to go anywhere else when he's done. You know your father-- he doesn't like leaving the house much."  _

_ "Then can  _ we  _ go get gelato while  _ he _ goes home?" Adrien asks, gesturing between the two of them.  _

_ "And get gelato without him? Something tells me he wouldn't be very happy with that, either," she says, a teasing lilt in her voice.  _

_ Adrien doesn't return the banter, though, huffing in indignation instead. "Well, he doesn't like hanging out with us anyway, so I don't know why we can't go do what  _ we  _ want to do."  _

_ "Woah, woah," Emilie says, taking her hands off Adrien's head to turn him to face her. "What makes you think he doesn't like being with us?"  _

_ Adrien gestures to the door leading to the stairwell. "He's always doing stuff like  _ this _ instead of spending time with us. With me."  _

_ "This is his job, Adrien," Emilie says. "He has to do all this."  _

_ "Can't he spend time with us when he's  _ not  _ doing it?"  _

_ "Well, he gets tired. It may not seem like it, but it's hard work, what he does."  _

_ Adrien pouts. "Well, it makes it seem like he doesn't love us."  _

_ Emilie looks at him, her expression a mix of sadness and understanding. "I know it's hard, chou," she says, "and I know your father is a little… difficult. But you have to understand. This  _ is  _ his way of showing that he loves us. Without his work, we wouldn't have our  _ utterly enormous _ house," she says, getting a small smile from Adrien at the words, "or all your toys and games, or food on our table and clothes to wear."  _

_ Adrien looks down at his clothes. Like almost everything else he owns, this outfit was designed by his father, and he knows it's rather expensive to most other people. He lifts his left hand, where he notices a loose thread at the end of the sleeve. He restrains himself from pulling it.  _

_ "I guess," he mutters.  _

_ Emilie smiles and pulls him back closer to her, resuming combing her fingers through his hair. Adrien smiles and closes his eyes. Whenever she does this, he likes to imagine that he's a cat being pet.  _

_ "We should get a cat," he says, and his mother laughs at the random request.  _

_ "Maybe someday," she says through a chuckle, and even though Adrien knows that 'maybe someday' means 'no', he can't find it in him to be disappointed right now. Not when she's holding him like this.  _

_ Emilie leans down to kiss his head. "I love you, chou," she says.  _

"I love you too, Maman," Cat Noir whispers. 

"Cat Noir?" 

Cat Noir whips around to find Ladybug standing behind him. Her eyes move to his cheek, and he realizes there must be a tear streak there. He turns back around and hangs his head to wipe it away. 

"Hey," he says, his voice soft. 

He's still looking down, but from his peripheral, he can see Ladybug slowly approach and sit down next to him. Instead of facing the city and letting her feet dangle from the edge, like she normally does when they sit next to each other on the rooftops, she sits on her knees, facing more towards him. 

"I saw you running out here," she says. "You looked pretty on edge. I thought there might be an akuma, but… it doesn't seem like there is one." 

Her voice doesn't sound accusatory, just concerned, but Cat Noir apologizes anyway. "Sorry," he murmurs. 

"Everything alright?” she asks quietly, and he has to restrain a laugh, because goodness, if that isn’t the worst question she could possibly ask him right now. 

He wants to tell her everything-- that he’s Adrien Agreste, and his mother is Emilie Agreste, and she was just found dead by her own hand this morning after months of his enduring nightmares and lonely dinners and walking on eggshells in his own home. He wants to tell her that no, everything is not alright, and he doesn’t know if anything will ever be alright again. 

But he can’t tell Ladybug any of that, and he also can’t bring himself to lie and say he’s fine. So he just gives her a quiet “hmm” and hopes she doesn’t press any further.

Fortunately, she doesn’t-- she gives a quiet hum of her own and continues staring down at the city with him. A few seconds pass before Cat Noir remembers his manners-- the manners his mother taught him-- and returns the question. 

“Everything alright with you?” he asks, his voice low and raspy.

Ladybug stays silent, and for a second Cat Noir wonders if she even heard him, if he should repeat himself. But then he hears her exhale. 

“Just thinking about someone,” she whispers. 

The breeze picks up the tiniest bit, reminding Cat Noir of the tear streaks on his face, but it dies down just as quickly. He idly wonders who Ladybug could be thinking about and why she’s thinking of them. It’s strange to think, even in this city of two million people, that there’s someone else out there who may also be going through something terrible as he is. Maybe this person lost a parent today too, and their parent’s death is being overshadowed by the news of the widely beloved Emilie Agreste. 

His stomach churns at the thought. 

There's movement in the corner of his eye. He swears he sees Ladybug lift her hand to wipe her eyes. When she puts it back down, she starts to say something. “I don't know if you have anything to do…" She fiddles with her fingers on her lap. "But if you don't… can we just sit here for a little while?" 

This time, Cat Noir restrains a laugh because that is the  _ best _ idea he’s ever heard. 

“That sounds good to me,” he whispers.

Ladybug shifts into her usual position at that, scooting closer to Cat Noir and resting her head on his shoulder. He closes his eyes when he senses another tear about to fall from his eye. 

_ My mother would've liked you,  _ says a voice in his head to Ladybug. Ladybug doesn't say anything when he takes one of her hands in his. 

oOo

Neither of them want to leave, but eventually they have to. Cat Noir is reluctant to pull her into a hug before they depart-- not because he doesn't want to hug her, but because he can't risk her asking any more questions about his well being lest he let the wall between them fall down, revealing himself and all his sorrows to her. To his surprise, though, she goes to hug him herself, squeezing him as tightly as his mother used to. If he didn't know any better, from the way she was holding him, he'd say that she didn't want to let go either. 

But eventually she does let go, and they leap off to their respective homes. 

The mansion is just as dark as it had been when he left it. Adrien lands in his room from his window, making sure to hit the ground softly. The desire to land loudly and kick holes into the spaces he lands on still hasn't left him, but the fear of disturbing anyone in his household is too strong to succumb to that urge. 

"Claws in," he says once he lands, and he closes his eyes as the black supersuit dissolves and leaves him back in his normal clothes, which are wrinkled from having slept in them for hours. Plagg zooms out of his ring. Normally when Adrien detransforms, he has to brace himself for Plagg's incessant whining for more Camembert. This time, though, the first sound the kwami makes is a long yawn. 

"Are you hungry?" Plagg asks through the latter half of his yawn. "You haven't eaten since breakfast." 

Breakfast. Adrien thinks back to this morning. He got up, got dressed, went downstairs to eat breakfast. He had toast with jam and a croissant. Then his bodyguard drove him to school. And his mother had just killed herself hours before. 

"Adrien." Plagg floats in front of his wielder's face, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You should get food." 

"I'm not really hungry," Adrien mumbles, but as if responding to Plagg's insistence, his stomach chooses that moment to growl. Plagg looks down at it, then looks back up at Adrien pointedly. 

"Fine, I'll go get something," Adrien concedes, averting his eyes. "You can stay here." 

"Are you sure?" the kwami asks, and Adrien nods. 

"Yeah. I'll be quick." 

Plagg nods and zips over to his cheese cabinet as Adrien walks to the door, opening it carefully to make as little noise as possible. He walks down the stairs with soft footfalls, a stark contrast from how Cat Noir was running through the city earlier. He can't remember the last time he walked through his house any louder than this. Even in the daytime, he always finds himself moving as quietly as possible. 

He can't remember if that was the case when his mother was still here. He doesn't want to try to remember. 

Adrien rarely ever goes into the kitchen-- there's no need to when he has maids and personal chefs to handle food for him-- but he goes to the dining room right next to it all the time. At this point, the walk to the dining room gives him some conditioned feeling of morosity, likely from all the meals he's eaten by himself at that excessively large table. When he catches a glimpse of the table as he walks past it, however, he stops cold, feeling like he's run into a glass wall. 

Barely visible from the lack of light in the house is the silhouette of his father, hunched over the table with his head in his hands. His back is facing Adrien, but Adrien can see him turn his head ever so slightly, indicating that he knows his son is behind him. 

For what feels like forever, Adrien doesn't move, and neither does his father. This is the first time Adrien's seen his father this whole day. He doesn't dare breathe, not wanting to cause any disturbance, but he's certain Gabriel can hear his heart pounding anyway. A few more seconds pass before Adrien swallows and finally builds up the courage to speak. 

"Father--" 

"Don’t, Adrien,” Gabriel interrupts in a low voice, not even turning to look at the boy as he holds a hand up to silence him. 

Adrien closes his mouth, standing there in silence for a few long moments. The air is completely still. Then, slowly, he takes a step towards his father, then another, then another, until he’s next to him. He pulls out the chair next to him, careful not to let it make too much noise as it scrapes the ground, and sits down. For an even longer moment, he’s sitting next to his father-- not looking at him, not touching him, not talking to him. Until he tries again.

“Father,” Adrien whispers, but this time he’s interrupted by the screech of his father's chair as he pushes himself away from the table. 

“I said  _ don’t, _ Adrien,” his father repeats through gritted teeth, and with sharp, pounding footsteps, he leaves the dining room and recedes back to his office. Adrien winces as the office door suddenly slams closed. 

Suddenly, Adrien isn't hungry anymore. He's all alone again, in this house that’s too lifeless and empty and utterly enormous for its own good. 

He lays his arms on the table. Then he rests his head on his arms, and for what feels like the thousandth time that day, he cries. 

**Author's Note:**

> Dang this really was just ten thousand straight words of sad, wasn't it? I have to admit, though, I laughed so hard while writing the bits where Nathalie was pulling a suitcase containing Emilie's body. It was just so absurd. I promise I tried thinking of anything else they could do to make this plan work, but that was the only thing that was remotely feasible short of Gabenath pulling a Weekend at Bernie's. 
> 
> Also, I used Google Translate for the "I love you" in Mandarin. If what I wrote is incorrect, don't hesitate to let me know.
> 
> (Find me on Tumblr, I'm hamsternamedmarinette)


End file.
